


im doing you a favor

by soapyconnor



Category: Wolverine (Movies)
Genre: M/M, OOC, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, he drinks bleach, sorry this is self indulgent, theres mention of the avengers bc uhhh idk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-19
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-08-04 13:02:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16347224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soapyconnor/pseuds/soapyconnor
Summary: of course, somehow, they survive





	im doing you a favor

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on tumblr @rboydholbrook

            Pain rocked through Pierce’s body, and he dipped in and out of consciousness. He was gonna die in the middle of bumfuck nowhere and who was gonna miss him? No one.

            Pierce knew this was his own fault. That he could have changed things in his life. He could have been different. But what use is the thought of changing to a dying man?

            Blood gurgled out of his throat and his eyes fluttered shut momentarily before he felt a shadow over him. He slowly opened his eyes.

            Logan stared back at him. Fear struck him, and he began to squirm on the ground. Perhaps Logan wasn’t as ill as he thought he was? Blood spewed from his throat and elsewhere a little faster as he struggled.

            Logan reached down and grabbed him, hoisting him over his shoulder in one swift movement.

            Pierce’s world went black.

 

 

            The sun lightly grazed his cheek. He didn’t want to open his eyes, he didn’t want to face the world, but he knew wherever he was at, it probably wasn’t safe. Pierce forced himself to wake up, and he laid there on the bed in immense pain. His throat was wrapped, and so was every other wound on his body.

            Pierce’s throat was dry. He swallowed, and it felt like he had swallowed a whole bunch of sand. He moaned low in his throat and closed his eyes.

            He heard footsteps and he forced his eyes open once more. He stared at Logan, his eyes half-lidded. Logan still looked old and decrepit, but everything seemed to have healed up for him just fine.

            _God damn mutie._

            Pierce opened his mouth to speak, but all came out was coughing sounds. Logan snorted. “Save your energy,” Logan murmured, as he sat down on the bed and helped Pierce into an upright position. Pierce looked at him out of the corner of his eyes, and he licked his dry lips upon seeing the glass of water.

            He raised a weak hand and helped Logan guide it to his mouth, and he immediately downed the lukewarm water. Logan tore the glass from his lips when it was empty, and it was at that moment Pierce realized his metal hand was gone. “My hand,” he murmured, as Logan forced him to lay back on the bed.

            “Gone. Destroyed.” Logan got up. “The kids fucked it up. Gonna have to deal with one hand.”

            “We should be dead,” Pierce murmured, his eyelids fluttering shut.

            He got another snort from Logan. “Yeah. We should be.”

            “How—”

            “Shut up and go to sleep.”

 

 

            For the next few days, Pierce only woke up to drink, eat, and have his bandages changed. When he finally woke up and had enough strength to stay awake, he immediately caught wind of how fucking bad he smelled. He groaned, and Logan appeared again. Pierce really wished he could figure out where he was coming from.

            “Morning sunshine.”

            Pierce groaned and attempted to throw a pillow at him. “Fuck off,” he murmured. “Help me to the bathroom, I need a bath.” Without a word, Logan came over and picked him up, taking him to the bathroom and setting him on the toilet as he began to fill up the tub. Pierce leaned back against the counter, his eyes half-lidded. “How long was I out?” he murmured. He knew that Logan was the reason why he was in this situation to begin with. But he owed Logan now—he was the only reason why he was still alive.

            “About a week.”

            “Where the fuck are we?”

            “In a motel near the border.” Logan sighed. “Before you ask, I don’t know how we survived.”

            Pierce watched him. Once the bath tub was filled substantially, Logan helped him undress and they unwrapped his bandages. Pierce flinched as it lightly tugged at his skin. Logan helped him into the tub, and Pierce laid in the hot water, his eyes slowly falling shut.

            He flinched as Logan’s hands touched him, but he forced himself to relax and allow himself to be scrubbed clean. “Why did you save me.”

            Logan didn’t stop in his ministrations. “Shut up.”

            Pierce sighed. He ended up passing out in the tub, and Logan left him in there, letting him soak.

 

 

            Another week passed. While Pierce was strong enough to eat, drink, and move on his own, he still found himself becoming incredibly tired and returning to bed before he could even explode the rest of the shitty motel.

            One morning, Pierce woke up before Logan. Tired of being in bed, he got up and tiredly shuffled into the tiny living area. His eyebrows knitted together upon seeing him passed out on the couch. He sat down on the couch, and Logan immediately jerked awake, a vice like grip wrapping around his wrist.

            He felt him relax. “Why are you on the couch?” Pierce murmured. “It’s gotta be uncomfortable.”

            “Giving you space.”

            “Well . . . stop.”

            That was all Logan needed to join him in the bed. At first, they slept on opposite sides, but eventually, they ended up curled up next to each other, a tight grip around one another, as if they were scared they would disappear into the night.

 

 

            In the morning, things went back to normal. A distance between the two of them that neither either of them wanted to cross. Upon night coming, they would find themselves curled up in bed together, with Pierce’s forehead resting against Logan’s chest.

            It’s the only piece he feels he’s ever gotten.

            Slowly, Pierce gets better. He’s able to walk and do things on his own for the most part. He doesn’t need Logan babysitting him anymore.

            He suggests, once, that he and Logan go their separate ways. Logan just stared at him, and said, “Where are you gonna go? You’re dead.”

            Pierce thought about it, and realized he was right. That he couldn’t go back to the life he once had.

            “Don’t you want to find Laura?” Pierce retorted. He watched Logan, who just slowly shook his head no, and looked out the window. Pierce studied him for a long time, his cool blue eyes just burrowing into the man’s skin, before he stood up.

            “All right, then,” Pierce said, “Time to go get a house.”

 

 

            The house was small. There was only a bathroom, a small bedroom, and a small living room with an attached kitchen. It was out in the middle of nowhere, and it looked like shit, but Pierce didn’t mind.

            He figured Logan didn’t, either.

            They settled into a routine. Logan would wake early in the morning to go into town and do whatever menial jobs he had to do that day. He worked enough to buy food and clothes, which was all right for Pierce.

            Pierce, meanwhile, stayed home. Everyone in the town refused to hire him, due to his neck tattoo, and the fact he only had one arm. Logan wanted to fight it, but Pierce just shrugged and went on his way.

            Nights could be stressful for the both of them. Some nights Pierce had nightmares, some nights Logan had them, and very rarely they both had nightmares in the same night. They both handled it as decently as they could, pleased with each night that went by where neither of them was injured.

            Eventually, of course, with nothing to do all day, the nightmares began to infiltrate him while he was lone.

            It only took one time for Logan to come home and to find Pierce curled up in a ball in a closet, with his stump torn open and covered in his own blood for Logan to decide he needed _something_ to occupy him during the day.

            Pierce hated it, but what else could he do?

            He stared down at his lap, sitting in the janitor’s closet at the local clinic. He didn’t know how Logan managed to worm his way into this job, but here he was. His head rested back against the wall, and he could hear nurses outside, talking about him. About how he had such a _wonderful_ boyfriend, and how his boyfriend was so _lovely_ and how Pierce _didn’t deserve him_.

            Boyfriend part aside, Pierce couldn’t help but agree. He didn’t deserve Logan. He didn’t deserve the kindness that the man had shown him, not after everything he has done.

            Pierce eyeballed a bottle of bleach as the talking got louder. He heard one of the nurses mention how she pitied Logan for having to deal with him.

            He snorted, and uncapped the bleach bottle, chugging it quickly.

 

 

            “You stupid fuck,” Logan said immediately upon Pierce opening his eyes.

            “Damn,” Pierce murmured, “Thought it’d work.”

            “Well, you thought wrong, princess. Fuckin’ nurses found you passed out on the janitor room floor.” Logan glared at him. “Why the _fuck_ did you do that?”

            “Dunno.”

            “You do know, you stupid prick, you’re just refusing to say.”

            Pierce rolled his eyes.

            “Fine. Don’t fuckin’ say it. Leave it in that fucked up head of yours—”

            “Why do you fuckin’ care?”

            Silence fell between the two of them, Logan staring at Pierce unblinking for a few moments, before he immediately frowned. “Maybe because I’ve grown attached to your stupid ass? Ever think of that, Einstein?”

            Pierce stared back at him. “Why?”

            Logan snorted. “Hell, if I know.” He looked him up and down, before he sighed. “Really, Pierce. Just tell me what fuckin’ happened. I know it wasn’t an episode—”

            “I don’t deserve you.”

            Logan paused, staring at him. “I’m sorry?”

            Pierce grit his teeth. “I don’t fucking deserve you, okay? I don’t know what I fucking did to deserve you showing me any amount of humanity. I don’t deserve you gettin’ me that fuckin’ job. I’m just an asshole and I shouldn’t even _be here_.” He tore his hand through his hair. “Fuckin’, the nurses even fucking said it. If anyone can see it, then it’s perfectly clear.”

            “Pierce—”

            “I’m a _burden_ on you, Logan.”

            “Shut the fuck up!” Logan howled, and Pierce stared at him with unblinking eyes. “If you were a fucking burden on me I would have gotten rid of you a long time ago. I haven’t, now, have I?”

            Pierce went quiet, and dug his teeth into the muscles in his cheek. “Fuck you.”

            “Oh, fuck _me_ —?”

            Pierce grabbed him by the front of the shirt, dragging him forward and kissing him pointedly. He then released him without much fanfare and sank down onto the hospital bed.

            Logan stared at him.

            “What?” Pierce snapped.

            “The fuck was that for?”

            Pierce glared and jerked his head away. “The nurses assumed we were dating.” He gritted his teeth. “I wanted to see if there was anything there.”

            There was a pause. Then Logan snorted. “Well, is there?”

            Pierce wasn’t sure. Yeah, Logan’s rough lips _did_ feel good against his . . . when they slept together, he did enjoy the feeling of his rough body—

            Without waiting for Pierce to answer, Logan grabbed him by the chin and turned his head, kissing him firmly on the lips. Pierce sank into the kiss.

            “Don’t let anyone tell you you’re not good enough for me. We’re both equal pieces of shits whether they like to believe it or not,” Logan said with a snort.

            At a loss for words, Pierce just quietly nodded.

 

 

            Pierce returned home, the painkillers making his head all fuzzy. He stared at Logan, who was reading a paper next to him. He murmured, “I don’t want to go back to that job. The nurses there are assholes.”

            “I never said you had to go back.”

            “Good. Because I ain’t. If you want me to have a job I’ll find a better one somewhere else.”

            They both knew that that wasn’t going to happen. The likelihood of anyone taking scar and tattooed covered Pierce was slim to none. Even his status as a vet wouldn’t get him much of a job.

            “You do that, then,” Logan murmured. Pierce stared at him for a long time before he slowly laid down, curling up into his side and pressing his head against his chest.

            “I don’t understand.”

            “Understand what?”

            “How we got like this,” Pierce murmured. “You. Me. In this shitty house, playing domestic. Working dead end jobs and not doing _shit_. How I could have . . .”

            Pierce didn’t need to say any words. Logan knew exactly what the quiet meant. He wrapped a tight arm around Pierce, running a hand through his hair. “Life’s fucked. Just be grateful you have it.”

            Pierce snorted. “Don’t know if I can be when we’re stuck here.”

            Logan’s eyebrows knitted together. “Where could you possibly want to go?”

            His only remaining hand pressed flat against Logan’s stomach, and he thought about. “I don’t know,” he murmured. “I would say find Laura. But she’d kill me upon sight.”

            “So would the others,” Logan murmured.

            “I don’t blame them.”

            They remained quiet, and Pierce turned, burying his face against Logan’s neck. “Maybe some day we can go and find them,” Pierce murmured.

            Logan let out a snort, but Pierce knew that he was thinking about it.

            Unable to contain himself, Pierce tilted his head up, and kissed Logan, biting down on his lip and forcing his mouth open. The newspaper fell to the floor with a loud swoosh, and Logan grabbed him by the shoulders, keeping him place.

 

 

            “Don’t do anything stupid.”

            Pierce rolled his eyes.

            “I’m serious, Pierce—”

            “Don,” Pierce said, nonchalantly, “And I won’t. I’ll probably go outside or something. Take a _walk_ , like you suggested.”

            There was a moment of silence between them, and then Logan quietly snorted. “If I come home and find you covered in blood—”

            “Just go to work, you fuckin’ overreactor.” Pierce snorted. Logan leveled him with a heavy gaze, and turned.

 

 

            Of course, the day Logan decides to leave him at home, is the day things decide to go to shit.

            The door had only opened a small bit before it was forced all the way open, Pierce not even getting a good look at the people who had rudely entered his home. He looked up, and he immediately began to grit his teeth.

            The fucking _Avengers_.

            “The fuck do you want?” Pierce snarled, before his head jerked back and he felt a knife at his throat. He glanced down the blade, his lips curling in his disgust.

            “Where’s Logan?” one of them asked. Pierce was too lazy to remember their names. He just knew them as fuckin’ cowards in tight spandex.

            “Dunno. Went to work. Why does it matter to you?”

            He grunted as the knife was dug a little deeper. One of the men stepped forward, in his stupid red and blue spandex. “We need to talk to him,” he said calmly, “It’s very important.” He looked at Pierce with such a soft gaze, he _almost_ felt bad for him.

            “Well, I’m just gonna tell you what his answers gonna be: fuck you.”

            Pierce gasped and he crumpled to the floor, his arms wrapping around his stomach. He hadn’t been hit all that hard, all the muscles in his stomach still felt like shit. He groaned and buried his face against the floor, covering his head with his forearm. He could hear them arguing, but he really didn’t care.

            He was hoisted to his feet, his eyes nearly rolling into the back of his head before he was forcibly grabbed by the chin. “Listen here, Pierce. We need to talk to him so either you’ll give us instructions to where he is or we’ll just have to hunt him down.”

            “What the fuck do you want him for?”

            The man rolled his eyes. “The man went disappearing for nearly a year after _you_ and your Reavers chased him down. Now he’s living with you in this cabin in the middle of nowhere and living a quiet, modest life, with someone who tried to murder him. Does that sound like the _Wolverine_ to you?”

            “Yeah, it does, actually,” Pierce spit in the man’s face. “You clearly don’t know him as well as you think you do.” Once again, he felt a knife press painfully against his throat. “If you kill me, he won’t do anything.”

            “We know that.”

            Pierce was dropped onto the ground and he curled up into a tight ball, closing his eyes. He heard their heavy footsteps around him as they left, and he laid there, trying to control his breathing.

            _Logan_.

 

 

            He passed out on the floor, his body in too much pain for him to move or to call Logan. He felt awful, and when he woke up, he spotted Logan shoving their clothes into garbage bags. “Logan?” he croaked.

            Logan turned, and came over to him, cupping his cheek. “Finally woke up?”

            “The—”

            “I know. They found me. We . . . fuck, we gotta go,” Logan murmured, hoisting Pierce to his feet and supporting him. He grabbed the garbage bags. “Seem to think I’ve lost it.”

            “Well . . . you are with me. Perhaps you have.”

            “Shut up.”

            Logan placed Don in the back of the car.

            “Where are we going?” Don murmured.

            “To find Laura. Like you wanted.”

            Pierce’s eyes slowly shut. “Nice choice of words.”

            Logan snorted.

            “She’s gonna kill me.”

            “Yeah. Well. Let her try.”

            All Pierce could do was chuckle.


End file.
